a note about Talleen's new single and video, “Economics”

Last week, Montreal’s post-punk quintet, Talleen, put out a single, “Economics.” A pulsing bass drives the song while an insistent, anxious beat counters the woozy guitars. The combination produces a black cocktail of uppers and downers. The dominant sound, though, is the vocal—a mimic of ridicule and sneer. The song, accompanied by a video (by Alex Ortiz, the bass player and singer for We Are Wolves), gives a heavy-lidded glance at capitalism.

Talleen debuted with an EP, The Black Sea, in 2018. They sound a little like Killing Joke.

 

a quick review of a new album by an Italian band, Loose Sutures

Loose Sutures returns with a sound shot with axle grease and cheap wine. A Gash with Sharp Teeth and Other Tales, the band’s sophomore album, gets going with “Stupid Boy.” After two minutes of control-slipping rock ‘n roll, the song tumbles down a smokey segue, then falls back into stripped-down, heavily fuzzed rock.

My favorite song is “Sunny Cola”: the band’s faux-vintage sound blends sixties’ suede rock and a film-noire sound during the verses, but then sidesteps into an oceanic riff at the chorus. Just a city-leveling sound accompanied by dryly intoned lyrics: “The more you have, the more you smile.” On “Last Cry,” the overdriven guitars crackle out, with the lead guitar pumping more adrenaline into an already heart-pounding attack; and the final two minutes of the song are just a fuckin’ jam.

Loose Sutures are a heavy fuzz-rock group from Sardinia, a large Italian island in the Mediterranean Sea. A Gash with Sharp Teeth and Other Tales, due out October 15 (via Electric Valley Records digitally and on colored vinyl), follows last year’s self-titled debut; since that release, guitarist-singer Gianpaolo Cherchi left the band, and guitar player Giuseppe Hussain joined up.

I asked the band how Hussain has changed the band’s sound. 

"Giuseppe joined the band when we were about to step into the studio to record A Gash. We soon realized how talented he was and how much his style could turn our music into something else. Comparing the two albums, you'll see that there's a groovier guitar sound, more solos, and more accuracy in the guitar texture. Thanks to Giuseppe! Moreover, he's a singer and songwriter, too."

Major influences remain The Blue Cheer and Fuzz; heavy fuzz and stoner rock still front the Loose Sutures sound. But the new album has a bit less punk and little more psychedelic-space rock.

Instruments are treated with echo and heavy reverb; the vocals, which sound less snotty than on the debut, are pushed to the back of the mix so that the singer often seems to be shouting over the instruments. So I also asked the band about its writing and recording process. 

"It all starts from guitar riffs: we used to play these tones ‘til we got a good rhythm session going, then we would add vocal lines and lyrics. The last and most important part is to get the best fuzzy sound from each instrument. We were lucky enough to record in the same place that we rehearsed and wrote the songs; that's pretty relaxing! We know how the room sounds while using the same gear and amps. And Alfredo Carboni, the sound engineer who recorded both albums, is a longtime friend who built up the studio. So recording for us is part of the same process, and it's extremely fun."

The band sounds like it's having fun on “Animal House,” pounding out an almost Sabbath-like groove. A Gash with Sharp Teeth and Other Tales closes out this binge with a big double: “Death Valley I” opens with more overdriven, blown-out guitar; that song takes a breath, and “Death Valley II” picks up there, lets the music drift, spaces out, and then pulls itself together with a little hair of the dog.

 

(posts) some a pleasantry given in absentia

something about "Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil," by Hannah Arendt

Adolf Eichmann played a leading role in the deportation of Jews from Germany and a significant role in the logistical implementation of the Nazis' "Final Solution to the Jewish Question." After Israel's Mossad captured Eichmann in 1960 in Buenos Aires, the state of Israel tried him in Jerusalem for collaborating in the persecution of the Jewish civilian population. He was found guilty and executed by hanging in 1962.

Hannah Arendt, a political theorist, reported on Adolf Eichmann's trial for The New Yorker. Her writing was revised and enlarged for a book published in 1964. In Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil, Arendt draws out insights big and small as she dissects the trial and shares historical research. It is a fascinating blend of reporting, insightful meditation, and history.

The book's title captures the theme that emerged from the trial, according to Arendt. Eichmann came off as fairly average: an obedient, law-abiding, rule-following joiner, with no trace of mental illness and no real hatred for Jews. But he could not think for himself. Furthermore, he had no career plan and came to his position in the regime almost by accident; and, there, he found he had a knack for logistical planning. And when the regime's plan to expel the Jews changed into a plan to exterminate them, Eichmann accepted the change and the given rationale that doing so was the most humane option.

Arendt closes the last chapter by describing how Eichmann, after walking readily to his execution, offered a clichéd string of last words. This was wholly in character for him. "It was as though in those last moments he was summing up the lesson that this long course in human wickedness had taught us—the lesson of the fearsome, word-and-thought-defying banality of evil."

Arendt is reluctant to call the whole episode a show trial, but aspects seem to beg the description in Arendt's telling. Eichmann, who played an important role in the most horrific event of the century, stood in for the whole German Reich, and the execution was largely an act of vengeance.

For various reasons, including her descriptions of how some Jews helped implement Nazi policies against fellow Jews, Arendt came under heavy criticism after the book's publication. She addressed the criticism in a postscript added in a subsequent edition. She ends the postscript by stating that the trial did fulfill "the demands of justice."

Notes:

• Hannah Arendt is a Jew who fled Germany during Adolf Hitler's rise to power.
• Favorite sentence: "So Eichmann's opportunities for feeling like Pontius Pilate were many, and as the months and the years went by, he lost the need to feel anything at all." 
• I suspect Arendt cleverly sought to satisfy her most vicious critic with the cliché about "the demands of justice." 

 

something about going to Tulsa

Mr. Barnes,

I went to Tulsa once, more than 25 years ago, to visit my sister. She and her husband had just moved there so he could die near where he was born. He was diagnosed with cancer a few months into the marriage. The last time I saw him, he was in a hospital bed in Dallas, and his head was deformed and exploding with his disease. That visit was goodbye.

A few weeks later, I was pulled out of Spanish class so my family could join my widowed sister's side. I rode to Tulsa, Oklahoma in the back seat of my other sister's boyfriend's coupe—a Camaro. I felt the giddiness, nervousness, and melancholy one feels when one doesn't know what else to feel. But the mood in the Camaro was fine, with my other sister and her boyfriend magnetically alive and well. They seemed happy. Those two had great chemistry, like cocaine and alcohol.

In Tulsa, we found my parents, who had arrived from Dallas to console the inconsolable. My sister, 22, tragic, had been living with death in a strange city, and now death left her alone in that house. So she grieved, and we offered our presence as comfort. Little did I understand of sadness and grief.

something about last year's album from Plants and Animals, "The Jungle"

 

Here is an album that did not get enough attention last year—The Jungle, by Plants and Animals. It was released in October 2020 and is Plants and Animals’ fifth studio album and first in four years. The Montreal indie-rock band broke through with its 2008 album, Parc Avenue, which featured the glorious kiss off, “Bye, Bye, Bye.” But coverage of subsequent albums dwindled. High-profile music site Pitchfork had reviewed every Plants and Animals album since 2008, but not this one. I do not know why: the band self-produces wonderful, beautiful-sounding records, and The Jungle is no exception.

 

The title track features a restless bass and head-nodding beat. Plants and Animals has always captured this kind of nervous cool. The last 90 seconds jams out. The song sounds casual, but that belies its precision. The good ones can make it sound easy. Then comes “Love That Boy” with its acoustic layers, electric guitar shimmering out alien, submerged little notes, and trippy, translucent lyrics: “Is the moon following us? Is it moving at exactly the same speed? All experience connected, holding on its fingertips.” The floaty sounds complement the tight drumming and loudly churning bass.

 

What follows are the album’s best parts. “House on Fire” is fucking great. The hi-hat riding atop a throbbing, plucky bass; the synthesizer that comes in at 51 seconds like the air horn on a semi-trailer truck; the programmed synthesizer that darts through scales; and then the verse—delivered with ebullient focus and clarity: “Your house is burning—your home is on fire!”

 

Plants and Animals capitalize on that intensity with “Sacrifice.” This song includes sudden rhythm changes. Insistent tom drums and gained-up guitar hack away through several chippy bars in the verse, then chords splish as the singer implores, “Hold on to yourself / Don't you want to die?” Then the song abruptly downshifts into a dependency-shedding chorus: “I gave you the best years of my life, volunteered on your behalf / sacrifice—it doesn't matter—for dopamine and lots of laughs.”

 

A cassette tape that sounds like it was left in the car all summer plays a recording of an acoustic guitar picking out a chord. Jangly, slightly warped. That is “Get My Mind.” At 21 seconds, the hi-hat opens up, the drummer raps on the snare, and the music tumbles into a song. A guitar slices off a thick, fuzzy riff of single, heavy notes, and the arrangement builds into a spiritual experience.

 

And it is here that The Jungle pulls back. “Le Queens” steams. A woman sings, “Sous les lumières dans le Queens / Tu t'embrasse avec moi / Ton visage blanche sous les fars / Pour la premiere fois”; then a switch to English: “Baby, don't you laugh ‘cause hearts get broke like that.” On “In Your Eyes,” a heavy phaser with subtle wah-wah effect produces underwater tones. And then the finale: “Bold” walks in quietly. But at the chorus, it cries out for your attention: “Waiting for you to be more bold / The drama rising, running out of time / Okay, what's next?” I first heard The Jungle two months ago. I have listened to it over and over, and I know what is next. I will return to The Jungle as time runs out.

 

 

 

 

something about "You Were Never Really Here" by Jonathan Ames

Joe's job is rescuing young girls who have been kidnapped and trafficked into the sex trade. You Were Never Really Here describes a job that will probably put Joe out of his misery.

Joe, a former Marine and FBI agent, gets hired to save the daughter of a corrupt politician in New York. But when he briefly disturbs operations at a brothel, Joe becomes a threat to a conspiracy and soon learns the stakes are higher than just a few months' income for a sex trafficker. The threatened trafficking organization murders the few important people in Joe's life. Joe, a deeply damaged human being, responds immediately by going on the offensive. He intends to brutalize his way to the crime boss who just destroyed the life Joe had come to accept. Now he has nothing left to lose.

"You Were Never Really Here," a slim novella published in 2013, was a huge departure for American author Jonathan Ames, whose work tries to be humorous. A gritty film version written and directed by Lynne Ramsay came out in 2017. It stars Joaquin Phoenix, who is real and the best actor of all time.

The book has a clumsy description of Joe early on. I wanted Ames to take us deeper. But, nevertheless, You Were Never Really Here was a highly engaging but too short read.

about a late spring weekend

 

I love rain—I want hours of rain, rain that pools on the ground under weighty skies and then runs paths in and out of the puddles. Rainy weekends are the weekends I want. How about you? Some people say weather is a dull topic of conversation. I guess they are right.

 

something about Black Ink Stain’s debut album, "Incidents"

Guitars lumber, vocals bellow, drums exorcise still spirits: this is Incidents, the debut from Black Ink Stain.

The French noise-rock trio sounds like Unsane, and this album is like a used cargo van overloaded with deep-groove riffs bowling down the freeway.

“I See You Dead” opens with a continuous track of bass and drums along with a dissonant guitar. Then the song rounds into a steel-chain groove accompanied by a flat, shouted vocal. A vacant, moody section comes at about two minutes in, and, after that, everything condenses again loudly into the groove.

“Pont Des Goules” is the most dynamic song on Incidents. It starts with a soft-focus riff, fuzzy notes soon accompanied by another steel-toe beat. Then comes a clean vocal—a rarity for Black Ink Stain. The song flows between parts like lava and recalls the soft-loud-soft-loud style so prevalent in the 1990s. On “Frozen Stance,” a bass riff rumbles and jabs through the opening minute. Restless drums and a dissonant guitar join, and this leads into a loafing, bottoming-out chorus.

Most songs fit this pattern: trunky grooves power ahead, find pockets of noise, then get back in gear. Black Ink Stain also takes advantage of the loads of momentum it builds in songs to add in breakdowns or syncopated high-knee jogs and not lose the groove. I guess once you build up that inertia, the easiest thing to do is keep going.

 

something about the Jars album, ДЖРС III

Jars moves you with a mix of dangerous grooves and hardcore punk on its latest album, ДЖРС III. The first song, “Заебало” (“Sick”), hammers out snaking riffs with a mallet. The guitars cut a dissonant, high-end whine, and the anxiety is eased only by the yelling vocals (“Oh!”) and driving drums and bass guitar. The tension grows over the song—and over and again on these nine tracks of ear-filling discontent.

Jars is a Moscow-based noise rock trio. It has existed in some form or another since 2011. The band has a handful of albums and EPs, and in December 2020, released ДЖРС III (a Russian translation of the band's name plus III).

Find the dialed-in inebriation of “Черное прикосновение” (“Curse Curse Curse!”), the five-minute musical equivalent of bashing in car windows in a convenience store parking lot. The song features a bass-driven groove below guitar notes that crunch and jangle while the vocal yells behind the din.

Jars want you to recall the 1990s and record label Amphetamine Reptile. I hear Shellac and Drive Like Jehu. And on “Спидкоп” (“Speedcop”), I hear even a little Converge. This compact, powerhouse of a song opens with a moment of feedback, then explodes into hardcore. Everything sounds good: the screaming vocal, the way the guitar strings ring out rather than shoosh a wall of distortion, and the penetrating bass and crisp drums. Nicely done.

The album ends with “Москва слезам не верит” (“Moscow does not believe in tears”), a half-marathon in a pocket groove. Nasty guitar streaks color and vocals shout out—but all succumb to the flexing rhythm of the bass and drums. The song retools after five minutes, escalates, slows—the sound of a band sharing consciousness—and drives on, passing 10 minutes, with gobs of mud thrown off with each turn of the wheel. The album’s song lengths vary, but the volume stays the same.